Snowy Memories
by Maxy Steel
Summary: Just another tribute to snow. A look into the past, then a bit of reflection in the present after.


_General disclaimer: Max Steel belongs to many companies, Kids' WB!, two different computer animation companies, and a whole mess-o corporate executives. This story is my personal work derived from my inner child getting hold of an uzi and obliterating my good side. _

  


**SNOWY MEMORIES**

**BY:**

**Maxy Steel**

  


Jim McGrath came home in better spirits than he had in a long time. There hadn't been too much to do at work, and they had let him go home early, to boot. Leaning against his closed door, he contemplated his choices. The daycare he had left his four-year-old son at wasn't expecting him for another hour, though he usually didn't get there for at least another two hours. He could use this time to catch a quick nap, or he could pick up his son early. It wasn't a hard choice. He took five minutes to change out of his uniform, and was out the door. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been able to spend time with Josh while the sun was still high in the sky. Even on weekends, he usually had work anyway. This was something both of them needed.

The secretary was surprised to see the dark haired father, at the very least. She knew the man, but usually, his kid was the very last to be picked up. Jim smiled at her warmly.

"Jim McGrath, here to pick up my son. Josh," he drawled, more out of habit than professionalism. The woman returned his smile, then frowned slightly, looking down at her clipboard.

"He's right in the back, Mr. McGrath. But, I'm afraid Josh has been getting into trouble today," she told him. Jim bit back a smile. That was a common phrase, especially for his son. Instead, he put on a stern face.

"What kind of trouble?" he asked, just before the door opened in the back.

"Daddy!" a child's voice yelped, just before Jim's leg was attacked by a small but powerful force. Looking down, the father looked down to see a blond head, and more dirt than he thought could be attached to a child covering his son. Mrs. Tenkin, the children's watcher, was close on the child's heels.

"Josh! I know you're somewhere under there," Jim replied to his son, scooping him up. He was rewarded with a hug from the child. The woman stalked up to the father and son. 

"Mr. McGrath, I must _request_ that you teach your son some obedience," she said through clenched teeth. Jim and Josh smiled simultaneously.

"Why, whatever did my child do?" the father asked, feigning innocence and trying not to laugh. Josh was merely doing his best to look angelic. The woman glared at the small boy for a moment.

"He needs to learn that hoses and sandboxes do not mix. More importantly, they do not make a swimming pool," she said finally, in a stiff voice. Jim bit his lip to keep his laughter in. _Funny, I never thought of that one when I was a kid_, he thought to himself, then turned a stern look on his son, who looked worried. He winked to reassure the child.

"I'm shocked. Horrified, really. I promise, I will lay down some discipline," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Josh added a dignifiedly embarrassed hanging of his head to the act. Mrs. Tenkin shook her head at the two. Silently contemplating them.

"Sometimes I swear you've trained that boy. Very well. I'll see you on Monday, Josh," she said finally, then turned back to the playroom. The second her back was turned, Josh blew the loudest raspberry he could manage. It even made the secretary smile slightly. The boy's target stiffened, turned around, and gave the little one her evil eye. He smiled sweetly, and waved at her. Jim chuckled to himself, and left the center.

"You've got to stop harassing that poor woman so much, son. I don't think her nerves can take much more of you," he chided his boy. Josh smiled up at his father.

"She's mean. She made me take a nap," he tried to defend himself, adding a convincing pair of big, "puppy eyes" to accentuate his side. Jim chuckled as he set his son into the car seat, and buckled him in. Immediately, the boy demonstrated his escape abilities, by greeting his father in the front seat, poised with the steering wheel in his small hands. Laughing, the older McGrath placed his son back into his car seat.

"Just stay in the chair until we get home," he pleaded. Josh smiled, and nodded. Jim gave his son a look that questioned this aspect, then got into the car.

Back at home, Josh himself was only too eager to get out of his dirty clothes, and into clean ones. Jim had just finished ordering a pizza, when he heard thumps coming down the stairs. Glancing around the wall to the staircase, he chuckled. Josh, clad in one of his father's sweatshirts and a pair of his own pants, clattered down the stairs. What with the considerable size difference between the father and son, the child was engulfed by the garment. Raising one sleeve, Josh wagged it cheerfully.

"Hi, Daddy," he greeted. Jim laughed, and picked up his boy. He pulled the back of the sweatshirt over the boy's eyes.

"You know, this is awfully big on you, kid," he observed. Josh folded his arms stubbornly, the sleeves flopping in all directions.

"I wanna be like you," he reasoned. Despite the feelings of pride that washed over him at the statement, Jim felt a pang of despair. He brushed it aside quickly.

"I'd love to hear you say that in a few years, son. Come on, let's go get you into clothes that actually fit you," the father said quickly, swinging his boy up onto his shoulders. The younger McGrath laughed happily as they hurried up the stairs.

Later that night, after the pizza had been finished, the small family was sitting before the TV, watching a movie. Josh was sprawled out on his stomach less than a foot from the screen, staring in wonder at the glowing images. Jim was barely paying attention to the program, the majority of his attention focused on the newspaper. More importantly, if any of his recent antics had been mentioned in the paper. Because of this, he was barely aware when his son crept up onto his lap. That is, until the boy yanked the paper down, and bounced up and down on his father's lap.

"Something earth-shattering happen on TV, kid?" the father asked, trying to hold the boy still.

"Daddy, what's snow?" Josh questioned innocently. Jim sighed, and shook his head.

"Snow...is white stuff that falls when it's really cold. We don't get it around here. Del Oro is way too warm," he explained half-heartedly. Josh looked unconvinced.

"I know that. That's what's on that thing," the boy replied, turning and pointing at the television. Jim shrugged, and set his son back on the floor.

"So you already know what snow is," he reasoned. In a second, the boy was back on his lap, a pleading look on his face.

"But what _is_ it?" he demanded. Jim regarded the small, bright-eyed boy for a moment, then laughed. Josh blinked several times, confused.

"Okay, okay. Josh, you've made your point. Come on, I'll show you what snow is," he chuckled, getting up and taking the boy with him. Had he not been suspended several feet above ground, the blond child would have jumped for joy.

*****

Jim glanced around the hanger at N-tek, then stepped from the door. Behind him, a small boy almost literally bounced around the hanger.

"Daddy! Looky! I'm a pirot!" Josh called, loudly, to his father. Jim turned to see his son in the seat of one of N-tek's two-person carrier jets, commonly called the _Hawks_. Quickly motioning for the small child to be quiet, the older McGrath quickly took his place. _Marco's gonna kill me if he finds out about this..._ Jim thought, laughing to himself just before the jet left the hanger. Josh was instantly entranced by the feeling of flying, and became silent, staring out the window in complete awe.

Almost two hours later, the two McGraths touched down in the snow-covered mountain side of Aspen, Colorado. The younger had fallen asleep halfway through the trip. Jim chuckled, looking down at his son as he sat on the wing of the _Hawk_, breathing in the cold air. White clouds formed each time he exhaled, and floated away. Suddenly, the cold hit Josh, who yawned sleepily, rubbed his eyes, and looked around.

"Daddy...where are we?" the child asked, looking wide-eyed around. Everything was white. This was _very_ unusual, at least to a child who had lived where the temperature never went below 70. Jim checked his watch. 12:00 in the morning.

"This is Colorado, son. This is snow, that stuff you were asking me about," he said with a smile, pulling his son's hood over his head, and slipping a pair of gloves onto his tiny hands. Josh's interest was still focused entirely on the cold, icy fluff covering the ground. Still on the wing, Jim lowered his son down to the snow, and laughed when the boy sank up to his waist. However, Josh, unaccustomed to the sensation of not being able to move his body freely, panicked. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" he yelped. Jim was quick to jump into the, for him, knee-deep snow, and pulled his son to safety. Josh relaxed immediately, and wriggled, wanting back down.

"It's just like swimming, only a little colder," the elder McGrath reasoned, setting the boy onto the _Hawk's_ wing-tip. His son squirmed, and fell into the white fluff again. Using his hands and knees to mash the snow down, the four-year-old quickly got himself up until the snow was only to his knees. For a moment, he merely surveyed the land with interest. Meanwhile, Jim collected a loosely packed handful of snow, and gently lobbed it at his son's back. Josh, not expecting the assault, was thrown off his perch on impact. Jim waited nervously for the wail of indigence, but it never came. Instead, the small blonde head popped up a moment later, the sparkling ice crystals covering his hair, and a small blob of snow on the end of his nose. He regarded his father with curiosity for a moment, then laughed in his high, childish giggle. Jim chuckled himself, and grinned as a small ball of snow landed a foot shy of him. Looking up, he could already see Josh scrambling closer for a better shot, a handful of ice clenched in his little hand. The father collected another ball, and lobbed it at his son. Both laughed when it exploded against the child's chest, and Josh threw his own projectile. With a soft thud, it struck his father's jacket. Jim rushed up and tackled his child into the snow drifts, mindful of the size difference between them, and they wrestled, much like they did in the evening, if Jim wasn't too tired. Snow flew up into the air in great waves, punctuated by the cries of laughter.

As fun and exciting as it was, the festivity didn't last too long. Not half an hour after they'd arrived, Jim noticed Josh's sleepy-eyed look, and smiled to himself. It was almost one in the morning, several hours after the boy's normal bedtime. He scooped up the small boy, hugging him close. Josh yawned, and was asleep before Jim had finished strapping him back into the seat.

"I actually tired you out," the father chuckled at the sleeping boy. His son opened one eye, smiled tiredly at him, and closed his eye. Jim patted the child's shoulder gently, then jumped into the pilot seat. If only everyday could be like this.

After somehow managing to sneak the _Hawk_ back into the hanger, Jim took his boy out, still in his car seat, and carried him out to his car. The young boy had barely stirred the entire flight home. Jim felt the familiar exhaustion beginning to set in. He knew he'd be paying for this venture tomorrow in the form of major drowsiness, but that didn't matter. _Every kid should have at least one romp in the snow in their lifetime_, Jim thought, looking affectionately down at his sleeping protegee. Josh fidgeted in his sleep.

"You'll probably sleep through most of the morning too," he muttered to himself, getting in and starting the car. Three in the morning. Ah, well, he'd been out much later than that many times in the past. The only thing that mattered was that he'd gotten in some real quality time with his son, his life, his legacy.

*****

_15 years later..._

  


Another successful mission, in Aspen. The bad guys had been stopped. They were on their way to Maximum Security via helicopter. And Max was sitting on a snowy bluff near the watery hole left by the nuclear canister, which had also been taken away. Rachel was ready to leave, but noticed her partner, and headed towards him. Her boots crunched the snow as she came up and sat beside him. Max wore a reflective look, laced with a kind of confused glaze.

"Something wrong, Mr. Steel?" the blonde agent inquired, absently playing with a handful of snow. Max sighed, and watched the cloud float away.

"I had that dream again," he murmured, so softly the elder agent had to strain to hear him. She raised an eyebrow.

"Max, you have had dozens of recurring dreams. Give me a few clues," she said quietly. Max collected a handful of ice crystals, thoughtlessly crushing them into a tightly packed ball.

"The one with my dad. I barely remember it when I wake up, but we're...wrestling in something white, like snow maybe. It seems like it should be. I always have that chilled feeling, like when we're on _Behemoth_ after a mission to...say Aspen, when I wake up," he explained, still grinding the snow in his hand. Rachel nodded, a look of interest on her face.

"I don't think you've told me about this one before," she said, an encouraging note in her tone. Max chuckled to himself.

"That's because it seems a little too far-fetched. I mean, why would I be having a dream like that? I've lived in Del Oro all my life, and it's never snowed, once," he sighed, looking up at the sky. Rachel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps it's an old memory," she offered in explanation. Max shook his head slightly.

"That doesn't make any sense. You'd have to been out in snow to be having memories of it. My dad was gone before we would have had the chance to go somewhere like that," he reasoned. Rachel shook her head slightly, and smiled.

"Maybe you'll find out what that dream means one day. Now come on, Max. We do have to get back and debrief Smith. Not to mention both of us are going to have frostbite if we're out here much longer," she said, standing. Max was at her side in a moment, stretching and arching to work the kinks out of his back. He looked down at the snowball in his hand.

"Maybe you're right," he said, then hurled the small white sphere out off the bluff, watching it sail out away from him, then gradually begin it's descent. He turned and followed Rachel back towards the _Behemoth_. Just outside the massive plane, he paused, and closed his eyes. _ I actually tired you out_, he heard his father's voice, how he remembered it, he'd never know, ringing in his head clearly. He smiled to himself, and entered the plane.

  


_The things that pop into my head when it's snowing. This one came at three in the morning, and I couldn't let it go. Well, I do have to try and get those series finished, so...Catch ya later! Luv ya all!_

-Maxy Steel


End file.
